Never Again
by Krysnel Nicavis
Summary: Rowena swore an oath to herself, with the newly spawned result of her weakness squirming on her chest, that she would never allow herself to be weak again.


**Title:** Never Again  
 **Fandom:** Supernatural  
 **Characters:** Rowena  
 **Prompt:** 31 Day Place Challenge - Day 10: In a forest  
 **Word Count:** 753  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Genre:** General, Romance  
 **Summary:** Rowena swore an oath to herself, with the newly spawned result of her weakness squirming on her chest, that she would never allow herself to be weak again.  
 **Author's Notes:** "I hate you because, when I look into your eyes, I see the woman I used to be, before magic, before the coven, when I was nothing but Rowena, the tanner's daughter. A pale, scared little girl who smelled of filth and death. I hate you because, when you were born, your father said he loved me. Then he went back to his grand wife and his grand house, whilst I lay pathetic and half-dead on a straw mat - my thighs slick with blood. I hate you, because if I didn't, I'd love you. But love...love is weakness. And I'll never be weak again." – Rowena (11.10 "The Devil In The Details")  
 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing …

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I'd never given much thought to how I would die…

Who am I kidding? I'd thought long and hard about the many ways that I could meet my end. From the moment I'd understood what magic was and how I could use it to my advantage I'd had one main goal in my mind: stay alive. And I achieved it. A spell of my own creation that would ensure I would always remain among the living and never have to feel vulnerable ever again… But I'm getting a wee bit ahead of myself.

Let me, first, tell you a wee bit about the very last time I ever allowed myself to be vulnerable… to be _weak_.

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Rowena MacLeod was a beautiful young woman – and gifted as well, though the people around her never quite knew about that. Some could hardly believe the once scrawny slip of a girl could blossom into such a lovely young woman. Always found dressed in threadbare and faded green, purple, or blue skirts with matching stays. Her long red hair was often styled simply and adorned with red ribbons. The local tanner's daughter caught the eye of many young men – and many _not_ so young men. However, while she easily caught their eye, they didn't easily catch hers. In fact, only one young man ever did…

His name was Lachlan Sutharlan. His was of a higher class than she had been born into, but that never deterred her interest. His family owed its success to trade and he was a highly sought after bachelor. When Rowena was fifteen, she caught his eye as well. But he'd also caught the eye of Isla Caimbeul – or at least, their prospective family alliance had caught the eye of both their fathers. And so, he married Isla and forgot about young Rowena.

For a time, at any rate.

She had gone away not long after he married and begun to realize the true potential she had with her natural talent in the art of witchcraft. Over the years between her leaving her hometown and returning, she had made great headways into honing her skills and was on a fast track to being picked up by the Grand Coven.

Four years later found her back in her old hometown. If she'd been lovely at fifteen, she was _enchanting_ at nineteen – even without the gift of magic. Her clothes were in a much better state of repair and her hair was styled more intricately than it ever had when she was younger. She found Lachlan to be every bit as charming as he'd been when she'd left… and he felt the same about her in return. Despite only intending to remain there a short time, she stayed for over a year.

They danced around each other for the first two months until one summer's day when Rowena took a walk, deep into the woods. She knew he was following. She'd sensed him enter the trees. She walked until she's reached the base of a large tree and sat on a patch of grass underneath. They made love under that tree and began a whirlwind affair that would continue for several months.

But it would never last.

The last night he went to her, he found her lying on her pallet in a pool of hot, sticky blood. A newborn babe lie on her chest and she could barely hold her head up. He'd looked at the child in wonder. They'd fantasized together over what the child would look like, what it would grow to be like, how it would be to run away and raise it together… but this wasn't his life… and he was already married. Isla had borne him legitimate children. This child could never be his.

So he pressed a small kiss to her sweaty brow, told her he'd love her always, and left the little hut she called home.

He never returned.

In that moment she realized that love, as blissfully wonderful as it could be was a curse. A weakness. Rowena swore an oath to herself, with the newly spawned result of her weakness squirming on her chest, that she would never allow herself to be weak again.

* * *

Rowena's neck snapped back into place and she gasped in a returning breath. That utter bastard! After all she'd done to help him. After everything he'd promised… He was just like _him_. Well, she should have seen that coming. A man was a man. Even if that man was the Devil.

\- 30 -

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 **Footnotes:**

(1) Clothing information taken from the article "Working class costume of 17th century women" on Jeff & Caroline's pages of 17th Century Stuff. www. .uk/caroline/ordwomen

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 _Completed: January 20, 2017_


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